


To Be Human

by CC_Writes_Stuff



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Minor Character Death, Multi, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Verdant Wind Spoilers, divine pulse angst, no beta we die like Glenn, only not because divine pulse, so much potential for divine pulse angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22791205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/CC_Writes_Stuff
Summary: After Shambala, Byleth finds out the truth of who she really is, and does not take it well at all. Claude attempts to help her
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 135





	To Be Human

_This had to be some sort of joke._

Byleth took a step back from Rhea - no, _Serios_ \- something turning in her gut, the Sword of the Creator - Sothis’ spine - hanging heavy at her hip. This had to be a joke, some twisted, sick, cruel joke. A vassal for the Goddess. Meant to trade her life, her soul, her body, her friends, so that Rhea could bring her mother _ ~~Sothis~~_ back to life. And yet, Rhea still continued to speak, if albeit softly, casually.

Like she hadn’t just told Byleth that she’d been born as a lamb for the slaughter.

Her father’s words echoed in her mind: _Don’t ever let your guard down... I used to think the world of Lady Rhea… Now I’m terrified of her._

Oh, how Byleth wished Jeralt was there. Knowing him, he would punch Rhea, if not straight-up run her through with his lance. She was just about ready to do the same, ready to skewer her with the Sword of the Creator ~~_whichsheneverdeserved_~~ and then toss it into the canyon, the same canyon that had swallowed her up five years ago. Rhea continued to speak, however, unperturbed by the words she’d just said, lamenting ~~_aboutwhatwouldsothisthink_~~ Sothis only giving her power to Byleth before disappearing. Trying to win sympathy from Byleth, which wouldn’t work, not ever.

Byleth missed her father, yes, but not enough to end or use someone else’s life to bring him back. Aelfric did the same damn thing to bring her mother back, and looked what happened to him. Her stomach curled in further with each sentence Rhea _ ~~Serios~~_ said. It had started when they’d received the news of Nemesis, the ancient King of Liberation, had risen up from the dead.

Then Byleth had figured out the truth of the Hero’s Relics, made from the bones of the Nabateans. She had figured out the truth of the slaughter of them at the Red Canyon, like what she’d seen in her dream the night she met the three lords. She had figured out the truth of the Crest Stone, which resided within her.

She had figured out the truth of her being a vassal, a means to an end.

“I… Is this why I don’t have a heartbeat?”

The words were eerily calm and even, given how furious Byleth felt. Something akin to grief flashed across Rhea’s eyes, before she bowed her head in resignation.

“Yes,” she said. _No more hiding from the truth now,_ Byleth thought bitterly, and Rhea continued to speak.

Claude’s emerald-green eyes bore a hole into Byleth as Rhea spoke, continuing her story. He already knew she had no heartbeat - aside from her father and Rhea, he was the only person to know - and Byleth hated it, hated her, hated him, hated this damn sword and this damn power that she never asked to have or wanted to use-

_-Stoic and controlled Felix, silently crying when flirtatious but self-conscious Sylvain had been impaled by an arrow and seeing Dimitri’s body-_

_-Linhardt, eternally tired and yet always wanting to find out more about Crests, his hands shaking when he tried to heal headstrong but justice-seeking Caspar’s wound, covered in blood-_

_-Sweet, kind, Marianne, screaming when Hilda had taken an attack meant for her after claiming dying for others was stupid-_

_-Lysithea, eager and forced to grow up far too fast, watching brave young Cyril plummet from the sky in the name of finding and protecting Rhea-_

_-Somber but beautiful Dorthea, singing a song with a cracked voice and tears in her eyes to a gallant and determined Ingrid, body broken from the fall off her pegasi-_

_-Seeing the fear and astonishment in Claude’s eyes when he’d taken an arrow to the chest, before he cracked a broken smile at her as he fell to the ground-_

_-Kronya’s laugh and the mocking words that dripped from her lips like venom when she stabbed her father in the back, the pained grunt he gave, the blood staining his shirt as he gave one last smile at her-_

-those memories and so many more, memories that only Byleth bared because of her cursed, wretched power of hers. They didn’t have to see and relive the deaths over and over again, but she did, because Rhea wanted to bring her mother back. _Oh, Gods, what would Sothis think of all this, if she knew Rhea_ ~~Serios~~ _was her mother, that she had tried to use Byleth to bring her back, that the ceremony at the Holy Tomb was supposed to end her life, there and then done?_

Red flashed in Byleth’s vision, at the corners, hazy, but there and hot and furious, matched only by the burning sensation in her chest. The Sword of the Creator threatened to drag her down, still pulsing and warm and red and alive-

She needed to get out of there, away from Rhea’s pitying, grief-filled gaze and whatever unspoken questions and concerns lingered in Claude’s. She needed to get out of there before she snapped and ran Rhea through or broke down and cried because _demons didn’t cry_ , because she was still Byleth the _Ashen Demon,_ not Byleth _ ~~the Professor~~_ or _~~Acting Archbishop~~_ or _~~vassal for the progenitor god.~~_

She barely remembered running off the Star Terrance, Claude calling her name, off the third floor, away from Rhea’s room and her father’s old office and the Audience Chamber where she first met Rhea with her father still by her side and she was still so blissfully alone and naive and sheltered. Oh, what she would give to go back to those days, to when it was just her and her father, traveling the world for their jobs, back when she didn’t have nightmares over her students death or cared so gods-damn much over people that she cried at their deaths, back when it was just her and her father, alive and healthy and happy, and nothing else.

Byleth only vaguely recalled some of the shouts and yelps of the knights and her former students as she ran towards the gates, desperate to get away from the monastery, if just for a bit. She wouldn’t leave them - leave Claude - to fight Nemesis alone, but she couldn’t stand the thought of being there, not right now. Not so close to her mother and father’s grave, to the Holy Tomb where Rhea tried to kill her, to her father’s office, to where Rhea was or where the Goddess tower was.

Her stomach turned and swirled, bile rising in the back of her throat as Byleth ran, the Sword of the Creator tugging her down at every step. Before, it had felt like an extension of herself, though now it just felt like a burden, a curse, dragging her down. Byleth didn’t know how long she ran for, or where she even ran too, only that Byleth soon found herself vomiting in an alleyway next to a pub-

~~_-the same pub her father used to haunt when he was alive-_ ~~

-tears welling at the corners of her eyes as she fought to control the vast expanse of _emotions_ tearing at her chest. Her stomach ached and her chest felt too tight and head pounded, red and black and colored stars spiking in Byleth’s vision whenever she closed her eyes. It was the same sort of awful, disgusting feeling she felt in the weeks following her dad’s death, but worse and in a different way.

Byleth didn’t know how long she had stayed there, her back pressed to the wall as she hurled, nearly getting sent down to her feet. But, somehow, she managed to regain control of herself, slow her breath, stay steady on her feet long enough to walk into the pub. There were only two things she needed right now: A drink, and to beat the crap out of something.

The bartender gave her a look when Byleth walked in, slammed her gold pouch on the bar, and demanded two bottles of their strongest drink, but complied with her wishes. She knew it was bad to drink and wield a sharp sword at the same time, much less spend half the money she had buying the bottles, but screw it, she needed a drink, and a strong one at that. Once the bartender gave her the two bottles, Byleth thanked him, grabbed them and left to go to the woods on the outskirts of the town. Too many people would find her if she went to the training grounds, and she didn’t want to talk or deal with anyone right now.

A little way off from the town, she found a secluded area in the forest, with trees that had trunks large and sturdy enough to train with in the place of a dummy or an actual person. She unsheathed the silver sword she always carried with her (in case she dropped the Sword of the Creator or was disarmed) and unstrapped the sword belt from her hip.

Taking much more care to not break the bottles than damage the Sword of the Creator, she tossed the belt to the side, before setting one of the bottles down on the ground next to it. Byleth uncorked the other one, took a long draught from it, and set it against one of the trees.

She started off with basic-enough attacks - sweeps, Wrath Strike, Grounder, jabs, slashes - moving with the grace and fluidity she had in battles. But soon, after the first bottle was gone and the sun was starting to set over the sky, the attacks became rushed, hurried, meant for doing as much damage possible in exchange for completely voiding defense-

_~~-Felix did this when Byleth first started out, and it caused a soldier to split his head open when she asked him for his help during Lonato’s rebellion-~~ _

Byleth paused again, wiping sweat from her forehead as she staggered over to her pile of stuff, taking another drink from the bottle that still lay there, warm now, trying to block that memory out, trying to block out all those memories out now. Instead, she tried to not focus on the good memories, but clear her head, make her mind as blank as her face. Standing up, Byleth grabbed her sword once more and stalked back to the tree she’d been using as a target for the last few hours now. She was tired and sore and definitely a little unsteady on her feet for several reasons, but her mind was too preoccupied and worked up for her to rest.

And besides, if she tried to rest, she had nothing to keep her mind from wandering back to the deaths of her father and her students and friends and Claude-

As if on cue, Byleth heard a crunching noise somewhere behind her, and she didn’t need to turn around to know it was the emerald-eyed schemer.

_She also knew that this was a war and this could very well be some sort of enemy ambush while she was unsteady on her feet and tipsy and exposed-_

-but Claude didn’t say anything. Byleth only felt his presence, felt the holes being burned into the back of her skull as she let loose on the tree, attacking with every ounce of anger and bitterness and sadness that had been building up in her chest since her father’s death, chipping away at the bark and carving marks into the tree. Normally, Byleth wouldn’t have minded his silent presence, not one bit, even if that silence was usually because he was trying to pick her apart, analyze her strengths and weaknesses, figure out if she was friend or foe. 

Today, though, she was tired and irritated and disgusted and a little bit drunk and fed-up with everyone’s bullshit. So, after letting loose another particularly violent Wrath Strike that seemed to suck every last bit of strength out of her, she let her sword drop to her side.

“What are you doing here?” Byleth bit out a bit more harshly than she intended, with more venom on her voice than she intended, turning to face him. If Claude was offended, he showed no signs of it. Instead, he offered a crooked, half-smile and shrugged.

“I came to see if you wanted to get a drink-”

Byleth noticed he didn’t have Failnaught with him, only a regular silver bow as Claude gestured to the pile of growing items she’d tossed against the tree, including the empty first bottle of Dragon’s Tooth. Now she had tossed her coat, shoes, and armguards there as well, dressed in only a simple tunic and trousers, growing too hot too quickly, even as the coming night cooled the air.

“-but it appears you beat me to it.”

Gulping, Byleth walked over to the pile, tossing the silver sword down on top of her coat and smushing it.

“Sorry I ran out on you earlier.”

It was a shitty, bad thing to say, but Byleth couldn’t find any other words to say at that moment. There weren’t enough words with feeling to describe how she felt at that moment, and even if she could find them, she bet they wouldn’t come to her mouth, anyways.

“I don’t blame you.” Claude’s voice was quiet, grim, as he walked over and took a seat next to Byleth, propping one arm upon his knee as he shook his head, sighed. “I… what Rhea tried to do to you…

“I never trusted her at the academy, the way she looked at you as if you were her own daughter, how she appointed you to be a Professor and gave you the Sword of the Creator so earnestly… but I don’t think anything could’ve prepared me for… for that.”

Absentmindedly, Byleth’s hand found the second half-empty bottle of Dragon’s Tooth the bartender had given her. For once, words seemed to fail the charming and too-clever-for-his-own-good schemer.

“For the fact that I was meant to trade my life so that Serios could bring her mother back?”

Byleth spat the words out, unable, and, quite frankly, _unwilling_ to keep the poison out of her voice. Byleth knew that it wasn’t Claude’s fault, that he hadn’t been the one to try and bring Sothis back, that he had always accepted her despite her inhumanness, but she was too bitter and disgusted with Rhea to phrase it any other way. She could only hope that Claude saw it the same way, too.

He was silent, though, far more silent than he had been in a while, and Byleth hated that, hated not knowing what was going through the schemer’s head and that not even his body language and eyes always told Byleth what he was thinking. She had to bite her lip to keep from saying that aloud, and, upon almost failing that, took another drink from her bottle. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

“Listen, Teach, I… I don’t know what I can do to help with… all of this,” Claude told her, and Byleth could feel his eyes on her. “But I want you to know that I - that all of us - are here from you. No matter what.”

_For now._ The words went unspoken from Byleth’s lips. For now, because soon, they would fight and defeat Nemesis, and then they would all go off to do their own things and have their own lives.

All of the nobles (with the exception of Felix, she assumed) would go on and go back to leading their own territories. All of the commoners would get back to their dreams and hopes: Raphael becoming a knight, Leonie becoming a famous mercenary, Ignatz becoming an artist, Dorthea becoming a songstress or actress, Ashe probably going to rule Lord Lonato’s old territory.

And Claude?

Knowing him, Claude would go back to the Alliance, to Reigan territory, and start working on achieving his dream of opening Fodlan’s throat. Where would that leave Byleth? Rhea was on bed rest, but she didn’t seem like she was going to be returning to her role _~~theroleshedidn’tdeserve~~ _anytime soon. And in that case, what would Byleth do?

Would she take over as Archbishop, despite not knowing what the Church of Serios was a year and a half (in her life) ago? Or would it be better to abandon that to someone who actually cares, who knows what they’re doing, compared to ~~_avassalforthegoddess_~~ The Ashen Demon, who didn’t want anything to do with this faith, now?

The only reason she was connected to it in any way was because of Sothis, because of what Rhea did to her that caused her father to run and not look back, not until the fateful day she met the three lords. She had been dragged there against her will or knowing, all so Rhea could bring her mother back.

A scapegoat, right from the day she was born.

And Jeralt died because of that, because of the connection to Sothis and the Crest of Flames and the Sword of the Creator that Rhea had forced upon her. Whatever Thales and Those Who Slither had been trying to do to her - Claude had remarked that Solon was bitter that they had lost her sword after she was sent to that void - had killed her father, in attempt to lure her out to the Sealed Forest to send her to that void for whatever reason.

Of course, she didn’t know how Edelgard still fit into all of that - after all, she and Monica had seemed to work together to some extent, the way she did with Those who Slither - but that just made it worse. Because Edelgard had been right, to some extent, in fighting against the Church. A hoax, for whatever reason.

“Byleth?”

She hadn’t even realized she’d gone silent amidst all her thoughts until she felt Claude’s hand on her shoulder. Byleth looked up at him, at the frown tugging at his lips and the worry that had replaced the usual glimmer in his eyes. His other hand was holding hers, a dull throb in it, and she realized the bottle had slipped out of her hands or something.

“You’re bleeding,” he said quietly, and she glanced down at her lap to see a cut in her hand and shards of the bottle on the ground, a bit of the drink on her legs. Had she broken the bottle? And if so, when?

“Uh, I…” Byleth didn’t know what to say to that, and Claude sighed, lifting her hand up so he could see it better.

“You don’t happen to have your first-aid kit on you, do you?” Claude asked, his eyes flicking from her hand to her eyes, then back down again.

Byleth shook her head, feeling a flush of heat on her cheeks, feeling slightly embarrassed at… this. Claude grunted, before pulling his cavarat off and wrapping it around her hand in a makeshift bandage. His hands were gentle, and he took care to not cause her any unnecessary pain. Not that she felt much of any - perhaps she had a little too much to drink.

“We should go see Maneula and get that healed up before it gets infected.” The words were soft, but firm. A command, if a lot quieter than the commands he gave on the battlefield. A command that Byleth would be ignoring.

Claude moved to stand up, but Byleth’s hand tightened around his own gloved one, just briefly, so as to not aggravate her wound. A part of Byleth knew it was better to go and see Maneula, but she didn’t want to go anywhere near that place right now. Claude froze, halfway between sitting and standing.

“Can… can we just… not go there, right now?” Byleth asked him quietly, unable to look at him for whatever reason. “I just… I don’t want to be near there - near _her_ \- right now.”

For a few seconds, Claude stayed rooted to his spot, and Byleth was worried that he might go, and either drag her with him or just leave her there. Then, he let out a sigh and slowly sat back down next to her.

“One night, and no more drinking,” Claude told her, and despite herself, Byleth felt a smile creep onto her face. That fell when Claude said his next words: “But you can’t avoid that place forever, you know. Not with Nemesis coming.”

“I know,” Byleth replied silently, shaking her head. “I just… I’m just pissed at Rhea, alright? And I don’t… I don’t want to be near the place where Rhea essentially tried to kill me.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Claude said, voice steady and level, but there was a quiet sort of fury that was laced underneath the words, a firm assurance. “No matter what, I won’t let that happen. I couldn’t…” he paused, and the words that came out next were tender and softer than what he had just said.

“I won’t let that happen to you. You….you’re too important to me, my friend.”

A warm, fuzzy sort of feeling spread in Byleth’s chest, and the tips of her ears burned at that comment _~~andsheblamedClaude~~_ blamed the alcohol for that. But before she could say anything else, she sneezed, and the cold started to seep into her bones.

“Mm, sorry,” Byleth said, rubbing her arms, now starting to feel the chill that hung in the dark sky. But before she could go and grab her coat to put it back on, she felt something big and warm being dropped onto her shoulders. Startled, Byleth looked at her shoulders to see that Claude had dropped the too-big coat that he wore onto her.

“Better?” Claude asked, a lilt of playfulness in his voice, and Byleth looked over her shoulder to see him sitting behind her now, a smile on his lips, eyes twinkling in the moonlight. Her face flushed, and she looked down at her lap as she tugged the coat closer to her, savoring its warmth.

“I had my coat, you know,” Byleth told him, even though a part of her admitted she did like Claude’s coat. ~~Perhaps she was a little drunker than she thought.~~ It was big and really warm, soft too, far softer than her own coat. The advantages of being a noble, she assumed, much less the leader of the Alliance. Lucky bastard - most of the clothes she got were worn and ragged hand-me-downs from the other mercenaries or cheap, penny-poor items meant to save coin, even after getting her job as a teacher. “Aren’t you going to get cold without this on?”

“I’ll be fine, my friend,” he said, and she could hear the cocky smirk in his words. Then he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, in the same way that he did when they flew to Derdriu together, on the back of his wyvern. “I have you to keep me warm.”

The warmth in Byleth’s cheeks increased, something running through her body at his sudden closeness to her. She noticed that he had stripped his gloves away, too, his warm and calloused hands resting on her arms.

“Seems more like you’re trying to keep me warm,” Byleth replied weakly, all-too-aware of Claude pulling her back so her back was pressed against his chest _~~notthatsheminded~~_.

A light laugh escaped Claude’s lips, then, warm and soft and yet so full of knowing, if that made sense. “Call it what you want, my friend,” He said, and then he rested his chin on her shoulder, his breath warm in her ear, making her breath hitch. “But I think this is sufficient to keep me warm, too.”

Byleth could almost feel the smile on Claude’s face, and normally, she would’ve moved away. But… there was something about this that felt… nice, in a way she couldn’t describe, even though she felt a tingling sensation on her neck and shoulders as to how close he was to her. Actually, Byleth could feel that tingling sensation all over her body, if she focused on it.

“Now you’re just teasing me,” Byleth said, glancing at Claude out of the corner of her eye. Claude shifted.

“Maybe,” he replied, a little… what? Meekly? Embarrassingly? Teasingly? Byleth couldn’t quite tell. Then: “Do… do you want me to move?”

Byleth opened her mouth, closed it, and looked down at her lap. If she was being completely, one-hundred percent honest with herself, she actually liked how… close, for lack of a better word, Claude was to her, even if it was making her skin tingle. It was... nice. 

“...No.” If it was anyone else, even Hilda or Marianne, she would’ve said yes. _~~ButbecauseshelikedClaude~~_ But because she didn’t mind his company, she didn’t mind as much as she would’ve otherwise.

“Really?” he asked. “I just… I don’t quite want to, uh… want to... overstep or… or anything like that.”

A little rich, coming from the same person who had once eavesdropped on a conversation with the Archbishop and had once tried to pry every secret that Byleth had from her, whether she knew the answer to it or not. But he had grown in the past five years, she supposed, just like the rest of the Deer.

“No, I don’t mind,” Bylth said, shaking her head and pulling her legs up to her chest. “I… In fact, if… if I’m being honest, I kinda like it… I’ve never really been hugged too much before. It’s… it’s nice.”

Was she sure she hadn’t finished the second bottle of Dragon’s Tooth? Byleth never would’ve said something like that normally, otherwise. Actually, she felt a little unnerved at how relaxed and calm she was by this. Byleth braced herself for the inevitable teasing Claude was about to unleash on her, but it never came.

Instead, Claude made a noise between a soft chuckle and a huff. “Is that so?” he asked her. “I guess Captain Jeralt never seemed like much of a hugger, hmm?”

“Not, not really,” Byleth replied, shaking her head. “He was never the most physically affectionate person. Usually, he showed his love through his actions and gestures, like taking me out to father-daughter dinners or fishing with me or taking me horseback riding.”

“That… seems about right.” A pause. “How’s your hand?”

“It’s alright,” she told him, lifting it up to look at it. “Thanks for bandaging for me.”

“No problem, my friend,” Claude said, before taking one hand and resting it under hers, fingers wrapping around her own. “If I knew an ounce of healing magic, I’d try to heal it, but…”

“It’s fine,” Byleth replied, curling her fingers over his. “I know everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. It’s not like I’m bleeding out.”

Claude’s other hand tightened around her waist, gripping the fabric of her shirt, and he seemed to tense up. “Perhaps I should pick up a book or two before our fight with Nemesis. After all, who knows what we’re going to go up against, and…” he sucked in a breath and let it out. “I don’t want anything to happen to you out there.”

“I’m not going to die, Claude,” Byleth told him, twisting her neck to look at him. “I promise you, I’m not going to die, and I’m not going to let you or anyone else die out there, either.”

“I know, I know, my friend, but… battle is unpredictable. And if this… if what Rhea said is true, then we’re going to be going against the ancient King of Liberation. Who knows what could happen out there?”

Byleth could hear the hint of fear in his voice, the hint of fear he tried so hard to keep out, and she hated it. Their fight was supposed to be over when they defeated Edelgard, but then there was Shambala and now Nemesis. As much as she hated to admit it, Claude was right: how long did Byleth have before she made a mistake that she couldn’t fix, before she pushed her power to the limit and couldn’t save someone?

“We’re going to win, Claude. For us. For all of Fodlan, and for Almyra, too.”

A spark of something - admiration? Relief? Thankfulness? Byleth couldn’t tell - flashed in Claude’s eyes, there and then gone.

“At what cost, though?” He asked her, before wrapping his other arm back around Byleth and burying his face into her neck. She flushed at the gesture, but he continued to speak. “How many people will we lose this time? Will we lose Marianne or Hilda or Lorenz or any of the other Deer, trying to defeat Nemesis?”

“I’m not going to let you die, I promise,” Byleth repeated firmly.

“I know,” Claude said quietly, lifting his head from her neck but keeping his chin resting on her shoulder. “If anyone is going to keep all of us alive, it’s going to be you, Teach.”

Oh, if only he knew how true that was, how many lives Byleth had lost and then brought back with her power _~~thepowersheneveraskedfor~~_. But only she would know of it, and only she would bear the burdens of watching her students die over and over again. How blissfully unaware Claude and everyone else was.

“What are you going to do after the war?” She asked him, closing her eyes and letting her head loll to the side so it rested against Claude’s. A light chuckle escaped his lips.

“You already know,” he said. “I’m going to break open Fodlan’s Throat and try to destroy this… this prejudice between Fodlan and Almyra.”

“Gonna be hard,” she replied.

“I know. Trust me, I know. But with you by my side, I believe it can be done.” A pause as Claude shifted, then: “Thank you for being by my side, Byleth. Even… even after I told you where I was from, how I’m a half-blood child. That… it means so much more than you know.”

“I could say the same to you, you know,” Byleth replied quietly, and Claude made a little noise of confusion. “Right from the beginning, you always treated me as a person, not… not 'Jeralt's girl' or 'The Ashen Demon' or some odd kid who didn’t feel as easy as others, like most of the mercenaries in my troop did. Even… even after finding out I didn’t have a heartbeat, you still treated me the same way.”

Claude hummed, and Byleth absentmindedly put her hand over her chest, where her heart should’ve been, but wasn’t. Claude seemed to feel the movement, and rested one hand on top of hers, fingers curling around her hand, and Byleth shivered at the touch, soft and calm as it was. What was happening to her?

“You know, I don’t exactly believe in stuff such as faith or luck,” Claude said quietly, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, feather-light, and yet it left Byleth wanting _something_ \- “-But I don’t think it was just coincidence that we met. We’re both different than other people, and sometimes, I think that’s what drew us together.”

A soft chuckle escaped him as he turned his head towards Byleth, and his lips brushed the top of her neck, above her collar, just barely, and her skin tingled. What would Sothis say if she saw that? “It’s like we’re meant for each other, two outsiders working to change the world for the better.”

“Coincidence, huh?” Byleth mused, a part of her brain wondering if _~~Claudeknewhowclosehewastoher~~_ it really was something like fate that had brought her to the monastery, if it was fate that had made Sothis awaken on the same night she met the lords and her awakening again the day of the Millenium Festival.

“I’m just thinking out loud,” Claude replied easily, a mirth of something teasing in his voice. “But either way, coincidence or not, I’m glad I met you. More than I could say in words.”

“You know, the day I met Rhea, one of the first things she said to me was, ‘I wonder… was it the flow of time that brought you here?’” Byleth hummed, acutely aware of how close Claude was to her. “Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. But… I’m glad I met you, too. You… Thank you for being there for me.”

“Thank you for doing the same for me, my friend,” Claude replied, voice a low rumble as one of his hands moved up and rested at the edge of the collar Byleth wore. “And I promise, no matter what happens-”

The kiss lasted the barest fraction and was feather-light, just a brush of Claude’s lips on her neck as his hand tugged down the collar to expose her skin, but it was all that needed to be said. It sent shivers down her spine, and _oh_ how did Byleth want more.

“-I’ll always be there for you. We can see Fodlan’s new dawn, together.”

“Together… I like the sound of that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was honestly a little freaked after hearing what Rhea tried to do in Three houses, and I imagine Byleth felt much the same. I mean, how would you feel if you found out you were meant to trade your life to be someone's dead mother back?
> 
> Plus I wanted to do Claudeleth fluff/angst and try out a new writing style so here you go.


End file.
